Cold Hands
by silenced lambs
Summary: Zack's angry, rambling thoughts as he and Cloud escape from Nibelheim.


**Cold Hands**_**  
**_

_**Warnings: **Slash warning, if you don't like it, here's your chance to hit the back-button…_

It's not right for his hands to be so cold. Sure, you know that Cloud sometimes walks in with his hands half frozen after a day on the practice ranges, loading and reloading a rifle in the filthy, cloying air of Midgar, tainted with decay and rust and human misery. You would catch his hands in yours when he comes home, pull him close to kiss him, make him a hot drink…he would mutter and squirm, insisting that you were mothering him, but he'd let you do it anyway…

That's five years ago now. You've spent _five fucking years_ in a tube. A touch of anger flares up, and you hate them, _hate _them and their little fuck-faced lackeys, _hate_ Sephiroth, that bastard. Ha ha, he really is a bastard, isn't he? No parents, therefore, in the true sense of the word, he is a bastard. Hell, in another world, you might've given yourself a pat on the back for drawing that conclusion, because you're cool like that. He was your _friend._

The anger fades to milky-whiteness because, hey, you're too tired to keep it up. Takes energy to get angry and stay angry. You put Cloud down as ceremoniously as possible, but for some reason, both of you collapse to the ground in a heap when one of your legs decides to be funny with you and spill you both to the ground. It doesn't take long to realise that you're laughing and crying at the same time. Just a little anyway. Hell, it's funny. How? You don't know, just is. A comic tragedy? A tragic comedy? It doesn't matter. It's fun. _Fun._ When your mind demands to know, you just tell it to shut up. Who the fuck cares when half collapsed on the ground with your best friend? _(You're delirious, Zacky-boy…laughing at nothing. Another sign of insanity, you know. What the bloody hell's so funny?) (Shut up, just SHUT UP)_

Cloud whimpers and squirms fitfully half under you, jolting you up as you paw your sweaty, sticky hair out of your face. You must have fallen asleep. God. What a time to sleep. There are a lot of stones on the ground, and they dig unpleasantly into your side and back. His eyes are glowing blankly like an animal's again. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, your mind supplies. Big, too. Made the others pick on him, though. If his Mako-tainted eyes look like that, you hate to think what your eyes look like. You try to close them again, vaguely recalling that open eyes can lead to drying, and he struggles weakly. He's probably a little messed up from the poisoning.

"Shhhhh, 's okay, Spike, we're cool, we'll be there soon, and away from that sonuva bitch, Hojo…"

He lies still, and you hold his hand, touching your forehead to his. He convulses violently, and blood comes in a thin trickle from the corner of his mouth, a dirty red, and you stare at it stupidly until your brain catches up with your eyes. "Oh God, Cloud…"

Hell.

You're Zackary fucking Donovan.

Soldier First fucking Class.

Sure, they tell you about Mako poisoning, a little, but dealing with it isn't your job. Then again, neither is paperwork. That's beside the point, anyway. Actually, you were listening in class

_(ha ha Zacky-boy, you were listening in class?)_

but they never told you it looked quite this scary. Bloody instructors never told you this bit, either. Never told you that you couldn't leave it to ShinRa to take care of their own bloody problems, but since when have they taken care of their own problems anyway that's why they employed you. Never told you that they'd hand you over to that sadistic fuck to be experimented on for five fucking years. Never told you that they'd start hunting you down after that, ready to put an end to the 'problem'. Heh. Even heard that it's quick and painless. Then again, how would they know? Fuckit. Your thoughts are rambling again.

This isn't supposed to happen to you…clever, popular Soldier First Class Zachary Donovan. You're supposed to be helping Cloud train for the next soldier exams, annoying Sephiroth, having a whirlwind romance with Cloud because you're just that type of spontaneous person. Not running from ShinRa with Cloud half-dead on your shoulder, Sephiroth completely dead and batshit insane, and you about quarter dead with muscular atrophy. Mako's probably the only thing keeping you upright at the moment.

Cloud is cold, and he's breathing shallowly. You ignore the slight chill and the feeling of some rocks digging into your arse, and you hold his limp, cold hand to your cheek. His chest is barely moving and your eyes well up involuntarily. Fuckit, why can't you stop acting like a crybaby?

_(You're going to lose him)_

Shit. You tell yourself that both of you are getting away as surely as the toads or frogs or whatever the hell those things screwing aren't going to stop.

You're a Soldier First Class. Shit-faced little rats in ShinRa aren't going to get you.

You were so proud when you made it into Soldier.

You were fifteen fucking years old.

ShinRa trained you, used you and is now screwing you over again and again. Hurrah.

Doesn't it make you feel so fucking proud?

Enough of that. Your brain has finally gotten the message through that Cloud should be warmed up. Well, you learnt one lesson from ShinRa. Body heat is still one of the more effective ways of warming someone up, despite modern technology, blah blah, advances of medical science, blah blah.

You lie down next to Cloud, and nestle him close, holding his hands in yours to your chest. It's not purely a medical thing, but it's just so nice, so stupidly _nice_ to hold Cloud again and feel him in your arms. You kiss him on the lips very gently, because you're telling yourself that you and him will go back to the way you were before that ill-fated mission to Nibelheim.

Tomorrow will be better. A bunch of troopers deployed can't take you on. You're not going to let them. He probably won't wake up, but you're nearly at Midgar, and hell, you've always been an optimist.

As you drift off to and uneasy sleep full of Mako, needles and scalpels, you love Cloud so fiercely that it borders on an obsession.

_(Careful, Zack)_

You're going to come out a-okay, because you're Zackary Donovan, Soldier First fucking Class, and ShinRa should know not to screw with you.

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As everyone knows, comments welcome. I don't bite.


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